


A King's Ransom

by lilithiumwords



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arkenstone - Freeform, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo Is Awesome, Bilbo is So Done, Crack, Did I Mention Crack?, Humor, M/M, Silly, Thorin has no idea what is going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have come to receive my claim of the treasure of the Kingdom of Erebor, as promised in my contract of employment signed by Thorin, son of Thráin, and Balin, son of Fundin. To get to the point, this jewel is worth a king's ransom. So, I'd like to trade for that, please. The king. Now."</p><p>Bilbo claims his fourteenth share of the treasure -- and it's not the Arkenstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King's Ransom

"Dragon sickness," Balin gasps, swallowing his tears back and looking up at Bilbo. "I've seen it before, in this very mountain. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. Thorin's grandfather was sick with it, just the same."

Slowly, as if he might spook Balin into crying again (and wasn't it just a shock, to see the normally cheerful old Dwarf sobbing into his beard? His poor friend), Bilbo sits down at his side and fidgets, knowing well of the stone that digs into his hip even now.

"Balin," he says carefully, catching his friend's attention, "if Thorin had the Arkenstone," and quickly he backpedals when Balin's eyes narrow, "if, if it was found, would it... help Thorin? Would it make him better?"

Balin eyes him for a long moment, perhaps reading far more than Bilbo has ever intended to reveal to any Dwarf under this mountain, and leans forward, raising a lecturing finger. "That stone," he whispers, glancing past Bilbo warily, "is the heart of this mountain, and worth a king's ransom besides. It is the sum of all this great wealth." Even with only a gesture, Balin manages to capture every piece of gold in that stone's worth, and Bilbo twitches again, even more nervous about Balin's knowing expression.

"Would it help?" Balin continues, his mien darkening. "No, I fear it would only make him worse. Perhaps it is best, then, that the stone remains lost." He shoots Bilbo another terribly knowing look, doubtful of what Bilbo hinted toward but firm all the same.

Bilbo's shoulders droop with dismay. He has stood at Thorin's side for days now, watching him spiral further and deeper into madness, into distrust, into dark and terrible places where Bilbo cannot follow. He misses his dearest friend (and a little more besides, if he is honest with himself), and he hates this cold, empty place; he hates what his Dwarves have become, and yet none of them will speak against the King's demand.

Together, Bilbo and Balin sit quietly, until something tugs at Bilbo's thoughts, and he straightens with interest -- and an idea.

"Balin," Bilbo asks slowly, meeting his friend's curious gaze, "did you say the Arkenstone is worth a king's ransom?"

~

The morning after Bard comes to Thorin's gate and asks for fair settlement, receiving nothing save threats from Thorin himself, the whole of Dale and Erebor (some 300 angry fishermen, an army of Elves, thirteen stubborn Dwarves who look increasingly nervous as the Elves glare at them, one greying Wizard, and one very frustrated Hobbit) stand at a stalemate, glaring at each other over a great gate.

Thranduil taunts Thorin with sly gazes and smirks that set everyone's teeth on edge. Bard looks decidedly less amused and far more disgruntled than anyone has ever credited to a bargeman (who are, by lot in life, a very disgruntled group of individuals). Thorin, in his madness and complete lack of wisdom, tries to shoot Thranduil in the head and gets a few thousand arrows pointed at him in return.

So far, nobody has yet died, which Bilbo counts as a win.

"Why do they not attack?" Thorin mutters to Balin, who looks equally confused. "Did you not come for war?" he demands of Bard, ignoring Thranduil completely, which clearly rankles the Elven king.

Bard shoots them both a particularly cranky glare. "We hope yet to reach a resolution with you, King under the Mountain. Payment was offered, and we have one who will accept it in our stead."

"I told you once," Thorin seethes, "I will not settle with Men or Elves! Who offers payment? I have given you nothing!"

"Actually," a small voice says with an equally small _ahem_ , as if straining to be heard above people who are much taller than its owner, "I have offered to accept payment in their stead."

The thirteen Dwarves of Thorin's company gasp as if they cannot believe their eyes, for there stands Bilbo in front of Thranduil and Bard's steeds, looking as if he has been in that same position for some time and is irritated that no one has noticed. Thranduil and Bard both startle as if they had not seen him at all, which makes Thorin and the Dwarves feel a bit better.

"Bilbo?" Thorin whispers, while Bofur twists around, looking back and forth frantically.

"But he was just here!" Bofur cries.

"How did they get hold of him?" Dwalin demands.

"Those filthy Elves, stealing our Hobbit!" Glóin blusters.

"Thieves," Kíli gasps, leaning against the stone of the gate and raising his fist. "How came you by our Hobbit? Give him back!"

The Dwarves start crying foul and raising their weapons, increasingly loud with anger, until Bilbo gives every one of them a stern look and raises his finger imperiously.

"No one has stolen me, and you'll do well to remember that. I came down here all on my own, and it is I who will barter for the lot of you today, since none of you seem to be able to do it yourselves. Is that clear?" Bilbo says, loud with warning, and every single Dwarf hushes as if scolded by their mother.

Thorin leans forward, his burning gaze fixed on the Hobbit. "What is the meaning of this?" his voice carries over the way, catching Bilbo's attention.

For a moment the two stare at each other, before Bilbo clears his throat and pulls out a brilliantly shining stone from his pocket. Thirteen jaws drop with shock.

"I have come to receive my claim of the treasure of the Kingdom of Erebor, as promised in my contract of employment signed by Thorin, son of Thráin, and Balin, son of Fundin. This jewel, as I understand it, is well worth a fourteenth share of the treasure in that mountain. I will trade it for my share," Bilbo says without a single waver in his voice, meeting Thorin's wide, watery gaze directly.

"To get to the point," Bilbo continues quickly, before any Dwarf or other entity can make a large deal about it (he can feel Gandalf smirking at his back), "this jewel is worth a king's ransom. So, I'd like to trade for that, please. The king. Now."

If a pin dropped on that field, the sound of it would crash as loud as thunder, for all the silence beat loudly and brazenly against the ears of every Dwarf, Man, and Elf standing there. All eyes stay fixed on the small but determined figure of Bilbo Baggins, least of all Thorin Oakenshield himself, who looks completely baffled.

"What?" Thorin asks intelligently.

Bilbo smiles up at him. "You heard me, Thorin. I have the Arkenstone, which is worth at least one of you, and since there are no others, I'll just take the one, along with two chests appropriately filled with the payment to the people of Dale. I will, of course, return the Arkenstone to the mountain, but in exchange, Thorin must come to my side and remain there for the rest of my time here. I'd say it's fairly done."

Thorin gropes for something to hold onto, completely bewildered by Bilbo's words. Flummoxed might describe the way his eyes stay wide with disbelief, fixed as they are on Bilbo. "What?" he asks again.

"It would be fairly done," Balin says thoughtfully at Thorin's side. Thorin whirls around and finds all of his Company nodding. "He does have the Arkenstone, and we did promise him a full fourteenth share."

"Aye," Fíli agrees, shocking Thorin even more. "We'll take the Arkenstone to safety, and the chests are no trouble at all, right? Glóin, Nori, get started on that," he orders, and the two scamper off before Thorin can question their judgement. His own sister-son, betraying him?

"What?" Thorin asks yet again, but Balin talks over him.

"We'll see it done, Master Baggins," Balin calls down, and before he can protest, Thorin is grabbed on either side by Dwalin and Bifur and frogmarched to a conveniently placed rope hanging over the side of the stone gate. They push him at the rope and glare with such fervor that Thorin is reaching for the rope before he knows what he is doing.

"Wait," Thorin says frantically. "I'm supposed to stay in the mountain! I'm the King!"

"You can continue your duties outside with Bilbo," Balin says smoothly. "You did keep him at your side for days on end now. He knows everything that needs to be done. Go on, we can't break a contract like this, not with one of our own company." His glare is so stern and reminiscent of Thorin's childhood that the Dwarf King starts climbing down immediately.

He lands on one of the rocks and, slowly and with great trepidation, makes his way to Bilbo and the three men behind him. Gandalf looks rather amused, enough that Thorin wishes to stab him with Orcrist, but the blade has been missing since Mirkwood. Thorin does manage to shoot Thranduil a particularly nasty look, before he comes to stand in front of Bilbo, looking somewhat lost and feeling quite out of place. 

His head hurts a little less now; it has hurt for days on end, but he rarely bothered to notice it. Bilbo's smile is hesitant and sweet; Thorin, for the first time in ages, aches as he did for months before whenever he saw it.

Balin has followed Thorin down the rope, and he appears beside the two of them with a rather cheerful smile, wider than Thorin has seen in weeks. "Well, that's a deal struck, Master Baggins," Balin beams, and Bilbo smiles back at him and hands him the Arkenstone.

Thorin watches with a dawning sense of horror that he cannot escape this. He has no idea what just happened, but he is completely certain that he has been duped.

"Thank you, Balin," Bilbo says, before grabbing Thorin's hand and refusing to let him go, even when Thorin tugs on his wrist in confusion. Balin has marched away before Thorin can protest, and somehow two chests have appeared behind him, while Nori and Glóin look entirely too innocent.

Thorin sees them for their duplicity. Every one of his Company has betrayed him! Even Bilbo -- especially Bilbo -- yet when Thorin turns back to Bilbo, seething, he cannot find the words in the face of Bilbo's utterly pleased look.

"But, why?" Thorin asks finally, and Bilbo looks up at him as if he has been very pig-headed, and perhaps he has. The Hobbit reaches up and pulls the crown off Thorin's head, gives him a single kiss on the mouth (and looks very smug about it when several Elves gasp in shock), and smiles, as brilliant as the jewel that he exchanged for Thorin's life.

"Because you're mine, Thorin Oakenshield, and I'll not let you go again. Now, I haven't had a single bite of breakfast, thanks to your stubbornness, and we're going to go eat. _Now,_ " Bilbo snaps imperiously when Thorin does not do anything but stare at him in shock, and the Dwarf is startled enough that he follows his Hobbit obediently, the last bits of madness falling away from him like leaves from an oak tree.

Of course, everything changes at least a little when Dáin Ironfoot appears with a war host, causing a lot of shouting and no small number of blistered ears (Dáin is not a very polite Dwarf), not to mention when Orcs literally crawl out of the earth, but somehow everyone lives, at the end of it. Except the Orcs, and particularly Azog and Bolg. They all die.

Bilbo makes sure of it. He isn't about to let Thorin get away from him _again_ , not after everything he went through to catch him!


End file.
